☆☆☆
I stared at my reflection.
The dress was gorgeous. The chapel train fanned out behind me, the platinum embroidery glittering wherever the sunlight hit it, and the empire waist was accentuated by a white satin ribbon.
"I love the sweetheart neckline. It gives you a breathtaking cleavage." Aunt Livia gushed. She was Valentina's mother.
"Harry will surely appreciate it." Aunt Ornatella said.
Something on my face must have made my mother realize I was close to having a nervous breakdown, so she ushered my aunts out. "Let the three girls have a moment."
Gianna stepped into view beside me. Her red hair contrasted beautifully with the mint dress. She opened the box with the necklace. Diamonds and pearls surrounded by intricate white gold threads.
"Harry doesn't spare any costs, does he?" She sneered. "That necklace and your headpiece probably cost more than most people pay for their house."
The conversation and laughter of the gathered guests carried up from the gardens through the open window into the room. Every now and then a clunk could be heard.
"What's that noise?" I asked, trying to distract myself.
Gianna walked over to the window and peered out. "The men are taking off their guns and putting them into plastic boxes."
"How many?"
Gianna cocked an eyebrow.
"How many guns does each man put away?"
"One." She frowned, then it dawned on her, and I nodded grimly. "Only a fool would leave the house with less than two guns."
"Then why the show?"
"It's symbolic." I said. Like this horrid wedding.
"But if they all want peace, why not attend unarmed? It's a wedding, after all."
"There have been red weddings before. I saw pictures from a wedding where you couldn't tell the color of the bride's dress anymore. It was soaked in blood."
Lily shuddered. "That won't happen today, right?" Anything was possible.
"No, Chicago and New York need each other too much. They can't risk spilling blood among each other as long as the Bratva and the Taiwanese pose a threat."
Gianna snorted. "Oh great, that's comforting."
"It is." I said firmly. "At least we know nobody will come to harm today." Except for me, maybe. Probably.
My stomach twisted into a knot.
Gianna wrapped her arms around me from behind and rested her chin on my bare shoulder. "We could still run. We could get you out of your dress and sneak out. They're all busy. Nobody would notice." Harry would notice.
Lily nodded her head vigorously and got up from where she'd perched on the bed.
I forced a brave smile. "No. It's too late."
"It's not." Gianna hissed. "Don't give up."
"There would be blood on my hands if I broke the agreement. They would kill each other in retribution."
"They all have blood on their hands. Every single fucking person in the garden."
"Don't curse."
"Really? A lady doesn't curse." Gianna mimicked our Father's voice. "Where did it get you to behave like an obedient little lady?"
I looked away. She was right. It had brought me straight into the arms of one of the deadliest men in the country.
"I'm sorry." Gianna whispered. "I didn't mean it."
I linked our fingers. "I know. And you are right. Most of the people in the garden have blood on their hands and would deserve to die, but they are our family, the only one we got. And there are innocents like Fabiano."
"Fabiano will have blood on his hands soon enough." Gianna said bitterly. "He'll become a killer."
I didn't deny it. Fabiano would start his initiation process at twelve. If what Umberto had said was true, Harry had killed his first man at eleven.
"But he's innocent now, and there are other children out there as well, and women."
Gianna fixed me with a hard look in the mirror. "Do you really believe that one of us is innocent?"
Being born into our world meant being born with blood on your hands. With every breath we took, sin was engraved deeper into our skin. Born in blood. Sworn in blood. Like the motto of the New York Cosa Nostra.
"No."
Gianna smiled grimly.
Lily walked over to the bed and picked up my veil attached to the headpiece. I bent my knees so she could fix it atop my head. Then, she gently smoothed it out.
"I wish you were marrying for love. I wish we could giggle about your wedding night. I wish you didn't look so fucking sad." Gianna said fiercely.
The silence between us stretched.
Lily eventually nodded toward the bed. "Is this where you'll sleep tonight?"
My throat tightened. "No, Harry and I will spend the night in the master bedroom." I didn't think I'd get much, if any, sleep.
A knock sounded and I squared my shoulders, putting on my outside face. Bibiana and Valentina stepped in, followed by mother.
"Wow, Aria, you are gorgeous. Your hair looks like spun gold." Valentina said.
She was already wearing her bridesmaid dress and the mint color looked gorgeous with her dark hair. Technically, only unmarried women were allowed to be bridesmaids but my Uncle had insisted we make an exemption for Valentina. He was really keen to find a new husband for her.
Bibiana wore a floor-length maroon dress with long sleeves, despite the summer heat. It was probably meant to hide how thin she'd gotten.
I forced a smile.
Mother took Lily's arm. "Come on, Liliana, your cousins need to talk to your sister." She led Lily out of the room, then looked back at Gianna who sat cross-legged on the sofa. "Gianna?"
Gianna ignored her. "I'm staying. I won't leave Aria alone."
Mother knew better than to argue with my sister when she was in a mood and so she closed the door.
"What are you supposed to talk to me about?"
"Your wedding night." Valentina said with an apologetic smile.
Bibiana made a face, which reminded me how young she was. Only twenty-two. She'd gotten thin. I couldn't believe they'd chosen to send those two to talk to me about my wedding night.
Bibiana's face spoke of her unhappiness. Since her wedding to a man almost thirty years her senior, she'd been fading away. Was that meant to soothe my fears? And Valentina had lost her husband six months ago in an altercation with the Russians. How could they expect her to talk about wedded bliss?
I smoothed my dress nervously.
Gianna shook her head. "Who sent you anyway? Harry?"
"Your mother." Bibiana said. "She wants to make sure you know what's expected of you."
"Expected of her?" Gianna hissed. "What about what Aria wants?"
"It's what it is." Bibiana said bitterly. "Tonight Harry will expect to claim his rights. At least, he's good-looking and young."
Pity for her kindled in me, but at the same time my own anxiety made it hard to console her. She was right. Harry was good looking. I couldn't deny it, but that didn't change the fact that I was terrified of being intimate with him. He didn't strike me as a man who was gentle in bed.
My stomach lurched again.
Valentina cleared her throat. "Harry will know what to do."
"You just lie on your back and give him what he wants." Bibiana added. "Don't try to fight him, that will only make it worse."
We all stared at her and she looked away.
Valentina touched my shoulder. "We're not doing a good job at consoling you. Sorry. I'm sure it'll be alright."
Gianna snorted. "Maybe mother should have invited one of the women Harry's fucked to the wedding. They could have told you what to expect."
"Grace is here." Bibiana said, then she turned red and stammered. "I mean, that's only a rumor. I—" She looked toward Valentina for help.
"One of Harry's old girlfriends is here?" I whispered.
Bibiana cringed. "I thought you knew. And she wasn't really his girlfriend, more like a plaything. Harry's been with many women." She snapped her mouth shut.
I was fighting for control. I couldn't let people see how weak I was. Why did I even care if Harry's whore was at the wedding?
"Okay." Gianna said getting up. "Who the fuck is Grace and why the fuck is she invited to this wedding?"
"Grace Parker. She's the daughter of a New York senator who's on the payroll of the mafia." Valentina explained. "They had to invite his family."
Tears blurred my vision and Gianna rushed toward me. "Oh don't cry, Aria. It's not worth it. Harry's an asshole. You knew that. You can't let his actions get to you."
Valentina handed me a Kleenex. "You'll ruin your make-up."
I blinked a few times until I had a grip on my emotions. "I'm sorry. I'm just being emotional."
"I think it's best if you leave now." Gianna said sharply, not even looking at Bibiana and Valentina.
There was rustling and then the door opened and closed.
Gianna wrapped her arms around me. "If he hurts you, I'll kill him. I swear it. I'll take one of those fucking guns and put a hole into his head."
I leaned against her. "He survived the Bratva and the Triad, and he's the most feared fighter in the New York Famiglia, Gianna. He'd kill you first."
Gianna shrugged. "I'd do it for you."
I pulled back. "You're still my little sister. I should protect you."
"We will protect each other." She whispered. "Our bond is stronger than their stupid oaths and the Omerta and their blood vows."
"I don't want to leave you. I hate that I have to move to New York."
Gianna swallowed. "I'll visit often. Father will be glad to be rid of me."
There was a knock and Mother walked in. "It's time." She scanned our faces but didn't comment.
Gianna took a step back, eyes burning into me. Then she turned and walked out.
Mother's eyes zoomed in on the white lace garter on my vanity. "Do you need help putting it on?"
I shook my head and slid it up until it came to rest on my upper thigh. Later tonight Harry would remove it with his mouth and throw it into the group of gathered bachelors.
I smoothed down my wedding dress.
"Come." Mother said. "Everyone's waiting." She handed me my flower bouquet, a beautiful arrangement of white roses, mother of pearl roses, and pink ranunculas.
We walked in silence through the empty house, my heels clacking on the marble floors. My heart was pounding in my chest as we stepped through the glass sliding door onto the veranda overlooking the backyard and the beach.
The front of the garden was occupied by the huge white pavilion where the wedding ceremony would be held. But behind the pavilion dozens of tables had been set up for the following feast. Voices carried over to me from inside the pavilion where the guests were waiting for my arrival. A path of red rose petals led from the veranda toward the entrance of the pavilion.
I followed mother into the small room between the outside and the main part of the pavilion. Father was waiting and straightened when we entered. Mother gave him the briefest nod before slipping into the makeshift chapel.
His smile was earnest when he offered me his arm. "You look beautiful." He said quietly. "Harry won't know what hit him."
I ducked my head. "Thanks, Father."
"Be a good wife, Aria. Harry is powerful and once he takes his father's place, his word will be law. Make me proud, make the Outfit proud."
I nodded, my throat too tight for words.
The music started to play; a string quartet and a piano. Father lowered my veil. I was glad for the extra layer of protection, no matter how thin. Maybe it would hide my expression from afar.
Father led me toward the entrance and gave a low command. The fabric was pulled apart, revealing the long aisle and the many hundred guests to either side of it.
My eyes were drawn to the end of the aisle where Harry stood. Tall and imposing in his charcoal suit and vest with the silver tie and the white shirt. His groomsmen were dressed in a vest and dress pants of a lighter grey, and wore no jacket and a bowtie instead of a tie. Fabiano was one of them, with only eight much shorter than the men.
My father tugged me along and my legs seemed to carry me on their own accord as my body shook with nerves. I tried not to look at Harry and instead watched Gianna and Liliana from the corner of my eye. They were the first two bridesmaids and seeing them gave me the strength to hold my head high and not bolt for the outside.
White rose petals covered my path and were squashed under my shoes. Kind of symbolic in itself, though I was sure it wasn't meant to be.
The walk took forever and yet it was over too soon.
Harry extended his hand, palm upwards. My father gripped the corners of my veil and lifted it, then he handed my hand over to Harry, whose green eyes seemed to burn up with an emotion I couldn't place. Could he feel me shaking?
I didn't meet his gaze.
The priest in his white frock greeted us, then the guests, before he began his opening prayer. I tried not to pass out. Harry's grip was the one thing keeping me focused. I had to be strong.
When the priest finally came to the closing lines of the Gospel, my legs could barely hold me up. He announced the rite of marriage and the guests all rose from their chairs.
"Harry and Aria." The priest addressed us. "Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage? Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?"
Lying was a sin, but so was killing. This room breathed sin.
"Yes." Harry said in his deep voice, and a moment later my own 'yes' followed. It came out firm.
"Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church." Harry clasped my hands. His were hot against my cold skin. We faced each other and I had no choice but to look up into his eyes.
Harry spoke first, "I, Harry Styles, take you, Aria Vercellino, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."
How sweet the lies sounded from his mouth.
I recited the words expected of me and the priest blessed our rings.
Harry picked up my ring off the red cushion. My fingers shook like leaves in the breeze as I raised them, my heartbeat hummingbird quick.
Harry's strong hand was firm and steady as he took mine. "Aria, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."
He slipped the ring onto my finger. White gold with twenty small diamonds.
What was meant as a sign of love and devotion for other couples was nothing but a testament of his ownership of me. A daily reminder of the golden cage I'd be trapped in for the rest of my life. Until death do us part wasn't an empty promise as with so many other couples that entered the holy bond of marriage. There was no way out of this union for me. I was Harry's until the bitter end.
The last few words of the oath men swore when they were inducted into the mafia, could just as well have been the closing of my wedding vow.
I enter alive and I will leave dead.
It was my turn to say the words and slip the ring onto Harry's finger.
For a moment, I wasn't sure if I could manage. The tremor rocking my body was so strong that Harry had to steady my hand and help me. I hoped nobody had noticed, but as usual Alex's keen eyes rested on my fingers. He and Harry were close. They'd probably laugh about my fear for a long time.
I should have run when I still had the chance. Now as hundreds of faces from the Chicago Outfits and New York Famiglias stared back at us, flight was no longer an option. Nor was divorce. Death was the only acceptable end to a marriage in our world.
Even if I still managed to escape Harry's watchful eyes and that of his henchmen, my breach of our agreement would mean war. Nothing my father could say would prevent Harry's Famiglia from exercising vengeance for making them lose face.
My feelings didn't matter, never had. I'd been growing up in a world where no choices were given, especially to women.
This wedding wasn't about love or trust or choice. It was about duty and honor, about doing what was expected.
A bond to ensure peace.
I wasn't an idiot. I knew what else this was about; money and power. Both were dwindling since the Bratva, the Triad, and other smaller crime organizations had been trying to expand their influence into our territories. The Italian Famiglias across the US needed to lay their feuds to rest and work together to beat down their enemies.
I should be honored to marry the oldest son of the New York Famiglia. That's what my father and every other male relative had tried to tell me since my betrothal to Harry. I knew that, and it wasn't as if I hadn't had time to prepare for this exact moment, and yet fear corseted my body in a relentless grip.
"You may kiss the bride." The priest said.
I raised my head. Every pair of eyes in the pavilion scrutinized me, waiting for a flicker of weakness. Father would be furious if I let my terror show, and Harry's Famiglia would use it against us. But I had grown up in a world where a perfect mask was the only protection afforded to women and had no trouble forcing my face into a placid expression.
Nobody would know how much I wanted to escape. Nobody but Harry. I couldn't hide from him, no matter how much I tried. My body wouldn't stop shaking and his grip on my hands tightened. As my gaze met Harry's cold green eyes, I could tell that he knew. How often had he instilled fear in others? Recognizing it was probably second nature to him.
He bent down to bridge the ten inches he towered over me. There was no sign of hesitation, fear or doubt on his face. My lips trembled against his mouth. My first kiss, if it could even be called that.
His eyes bored into me, even as he pulled back. Their message was clear: You are mine.
Not quite. But I would be tonight.
A shudder passed through me, and Harry's eyes narrowed briefly before his face broke into a tight smile as we faced the applauding guests. He could change his expression in a heartbeat.
I had to learn it too if I wanted to stand any chance in this marriage.
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